This post is about my Grandad, my Grandad who I lost last night (no he hasn't rolled under the settee). My Grandad is gone.
In his words 'that's it and all about it'. But that isn't it, it's not all about it although I'm not really sure what is all about it.
I just know I have a great big Grandad shaped hole in my world and no body can fill it, certainly not unless the have ridden on elephantswith Bashatampi and been called the old man at 22, or taught me to use chopsticks using bic biros to demonstrate.
Oh Grandad, watching you shrink was hard enough but now you are gone...
Grandad wasn't just my Grandad, there are plenty of us Grand and great grand children about. But I like to think of myself as the longest serving Granddaughter and I have the first Great-Grandchild to bear the family name. It is because of Grandad that I have always been so proud of my family name, and indeed my family. Anyway, Grandad has been the biggest and most consistent male figure in my life.
He taught me to drink whisky, and I'm sure it was a test for suitors when he poured them one of his 4 finger measures, I also think i got my gin habit from him, always believing 'you shouldn't have too much blood in your alcohol stream'.
I failed at journalism (well, I only ever tried Reuters and then gave up)but I know my Grandad was always proud of me. In fact that was the thing Grandad was always proud of everybody, whatever they did.
His / the family (well RAF) toast, he always recited is:
Here's to it and from it,
And to it again.
Those who get to it,
And don't do it,
will never get to it,
To try and do it again.
Grandad was a storyteller and I like to think that if we all remember a little of those stories than we will come close to something that resembles him.
While I close my eyes to hear his voice, and try to remember that 'to live in the hearts of those you love most, is not to die,' here are some pictures: